


Sin City (Frank Castle/OC)

by MistCatcher



Category: Marvel, The Punisher - Fandom, daredevil - Fandom, frank castle - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistCatcher/pseuds/MistCatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace Skeet is running from her past. She has made mistakes and she is desperate to correct them. Moving to Hell's Kitchen is the first step in her plan to make amends. Her next step, however, is interrupted when she meets her new neighbour, who always wears the deadliest scowl, with the name Frank Castle. <br/>Frank Castle is a man seeking for revenge. In Hell's Kitchen, he is known as the Punisher. Blinded with hatred and rage, Frank Castle will do anything in his might to rid the city of dirts and crimes. In his own mind, he is no man but a soldier, doing what has to be done. But that is until he meets Grace Skeet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [prologue]
> 
>  
> 
> You know that place
> 
> between sleep and awake
> 
> that place where 
> 
> you still remember dreaming?
> 
> That's where I'll always love you.
> 
> That's where I'll be waiting.
> 
> (Source: Peter Pan 2003)

Everybody is constantly running from something. Whether it be your school, your friends, or your family, there is bounded to be this one thing that you would so desperately try to forget. But hell, I'm not one to run away. And sadly, if I don't correct my wrongs, I know my mistakes are going to screw up people's lives. 

Sighing, I slap the car door shut and watch the rain washes off the roof of my car. For a moment, I just want to drop myself on the floor and lie in the middle of the road. I wouldn't have minded if a car would like to run over me now. 

Instead, I begin the painful process of moving to a new place. Boxes being picked up, boxes being dragged. My jacket is drenched from the stupid rain, but do I really care? 

No.

Hell's Kitchen, what a name for a city. I try to ignore how dodgy the neighbourhood looks as I storm into the apartment building that I'm moving into. Huffing, I carry my box of clothes up the creaking stairs. Each step is a flashing reminder of how I have ended up here. 

Biting back a frustrated groan, I drop the box next to my damp shoes when I have reached the third floor. The narrow corridor stretches before me, revealing only two doors opposite to each other. The one on the right is badly painted. In fact, its dark green paint is fading in an almost artistic manner. Note the sarcasm there. 

At the end of the corridor sits a long window. Taking a ginger step forwards, I approach the window and wash the rain washing off the glass panels momentarily. There's so much going on in my head. I fear that if I don't stop for a second, all my brain cells would just explode and evaporate. 

"Need a hand?"

I whip around in alarm. All senses of mine perk as I meet gaze with a tall man leaving the door from across my new apartment. His hoarse voice reaches me quietly, and I can already imagine danger radiating off his very being. His board shoulders hang up his heavy leather jacket fittingly, and his the foots of his military style trousers are tugged carefully into his big boots. 

I'm in trouble. I'm no more than a dead man. I just wanted to do some good in this world, to right my wrongs. But I haven't even made it out for an hour and Hydra has already found me-

"Ma'am?" The man's voice snaps me out of my racing thoughts at once. My eyes dart towards him once more. There is no need to hide the fact that I am rather surprised by the way he addresses me. After all, I do look slightly younger than him. Lost, I shrug and gesture towards my door. "Are you moving in?" he quizzes politely as he bends over to pick up my box, although there seems to be a permanent scowl masking his face. 

"Yeah," I hurry over to my door and push it open for him. Inside, it stinks of old furniture. I can already tell I'm going to have a hell of a time enjoying myself here. "Thank you," I murmur when he places the box on the creaky table in the middle of what seems to be my new middle room, which in fact is only an average sized room with a wooden table, couple of chairs and two long windows. 

He glances around the room before looking back at me. His brows are slightly knitted when he speaks again, "Anymore, ma'am?"

"They're in my car," I head towards the door again, "You don't have to do this. I can carry them."

He follows me with a respectable distance between us. He doesn't seem like he is about to attack me. So I guess that is a good sign, even though my heart is still thumping like I have just run a marathon. "Of course," he almost growls, causing me to peer at him just to check he is not actually mad. He isn't. But he is still wearing that scowl. "But it's a good way to get to know your new neighbour."

He doesn't seem to be the type to want to actively socialise. But I guess it won't hurt to get this over with quicker. We work in silence, with me passing him boxes and following him up the stairs. I don't have much stuff with me. By the time we have finished, only half an hour has passed. I take a short tour around my apartment curiously, only to discover that my kitchen is doorless, my bathroom is merely the size of a small walk in closet, and my room is only occupied by a mattress in the corner. My new neighbour joins me in my bedroom once he has dropped off my box of books. His brows arch and he blinks at me. I avert his gaze. "I think I'm going to enjoy it here," I say dryly and lead the way out. 

My new neighbour is a quiet man, I observe. "Thank you so much for helping out," I try a smile at him and only loosen his scowl slightly. He nods in graveness and I hold out a hand mechanically, as I have learnt to do when I was working for Stark. "The name is Grace Skeet."

He peers down at my hand for a heartbeat before reaching out to shake it. His hand feels much larger and warmer than mine. "Frank Castle," he remarks before leaving my apartment without another word.

I stare after him. Of course I have somehow managed to move in next to him. When I was working for Tony, I have read about him all over the news. Only people with my luck will end up in this situation, when I thought nothing could be worse. 

***

My knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Setting my eyes hard upon the road before me, I opt to push the thought of being neighbour with the very Punisher out of my head. Right now, I've got something else to focus on. 

It takes me almost forty five minutes to get to the suburban area that I have chosen previously. At the back near the ruined factory sits an abandoned car park. No one goes there anymore, which makes it the perfect spot to destroy a car.

It's not hard to find my way there. Once I've pulled over in the car park, I glance around me tentatively just to check there is indeed not a soul around. When I have confirmed I am utterly, and horribly alone, I sigh and pull my handgun out from the compartment underneath my car's dashboard.

One thing I have learnt from Natasha Romanoff is that, if one wants to start a new life, she should leave her past behind. It does make sense, really, which is why I am here, ready to set my car on fire so no one can ever track me through my car number plate anymore. To be honest, I am barely affording my own living now, ever since I have quite the much needed job at Stark's. But hey ho, what a price to pay in order to keep the world in line.

I pocket my handgun in the safety of the back of my belt. With my heart pounding fiercely in my chest, I step out of the car and hurry to the back. The sun is setting now, leaving trails of broken colours amongst the clouds. From the rear end of the car I heave a litre of petrol oil out and begin to pour it all over the poor vehicle. Once the damp air is occupied with nothing by the stink of petrol, I take a step back and fish a lighter out of my jeans' pocket.

Without another thought, I flicker the lighter on and throw it upon my car. It goes up in flames at once, the fire twisting and curling in rage. Turning on my heels, I pick up my pace and find my way out of the car park. The night is setting in, and I have to get away before the engine in my car overheats and explodes. 

Slipping my phone out, I turn on the torch function so I don't trip on anything. The plan that I have set in mind sucks but I honestly no other alternative. This is not only about me anymore. It's about everybody and everything that we know of. 

Plugging in my headphone, I find my way home while listening to one of my favourite songs on my phone. 

 

Now Playing: Space Oddity - David Bowie


	2. TWO

Never judge a book by a cover. This is what I have learnt so far since moving into this dodgy apartment building. Turns out, my new neighbour who seemed almost murderous, and is definitely deadly, has a massive soft spot for dogs.

Walking next to Frank Castle on the street in early morning chill, I wonder how I have ended up walking the Punisher's dog with the very person himself. "Slept alright last night?" He quizzes lowly, pulling me out of my train of thoughts at once. I peer at him and watch him tug the brim of his baseball cap further down. 

"The mattress is surprisingly soft, actually," I try a smile, ignoring the fresh cuts and bruises on his cheeks. "A coffee would really do some good though."

The man nods towards a shop a few blocks from us. I shift away from him slightly the moment I've caught the drift of gun powder off him. "That's a good place for freshly brewed coffee, ma'am-"

"Grace is fine, Frank."

He nods and leads the way. This man is dangerous. Tony would be pissed if he knew what I'm dealing with now. The very Punisher himself. Well, isn't life ironic?

We end up occupying a small booth in the back of the greasy diner. The owner, Maria, is a mid-age woman who seems to have a permanent smile plastered on her face. I wonder how she can manage to work in such cheerful mood in a neighbourhood like this. From what I've seen, only the unwanted belong here.

I can feel Frank's ginger gaze on me as we wait for our coffee and breakfast, as we have later decided to grab something to eat too. He already smells strongly of gun powder to me. I've worked with those things at Stark's for long enough my nose is becoming sensitive like a dog's. 

Well there is nothing to lose right now. From the little research that I have been conducting upon the Punisher, cause I had so much time at hands when I was working with Stark, I know his targets are only criminals. I'm not saying I agree with his methods, but I see the point that he's trying to make. 

And as far as I know, I'm not as low as any of the criminals that he has shot down. So I may just as well. "Been cleaning out your guns?"

His form physically pauses. His dark glints move to mine as his expression turns colder. What have I put myself into? I regret everything. A moment of blood curdling silence passes before we are interrupted by Maria, thankfully. Oblivious to the tension in air, she pours us our fresh coffee, asks us about our plan for the day, gushes how cute we are as a couple, which I furiously deny cause hell I may be dead in any second now, and finally leaves us in peace. Frank's hard gaze moves away from mine at last. 

"I don't know what you mean." He grabs his mug of black coffee and brings it to his lips. A typical answer, may I add. While I am debating if I should push my luck or leave the diner here, he narrows his eyes on me. Instantly, I know if I have decided to leave the conversation here, Frank is only going to follow me everywhere until he has discovered what I'm up to.

"You stink of gun powder, Frank," I try a shrug to play it cool. Lamely, I dump a pile of sugar in my coffee before stirring it, hoping it doesn't look like I'm trembling much. "I know that stuff."

He hasn't exactly slammed his mug down on the table. But he sets it before him firmly instead, as if he is physically putting a point, or rather a gun, in front of me in this case. His harsh eyes turn on me, all the politeness that he masks with are gone within a fraction of second. "What do you want, ma'am?"

I grit my teeth and grip tauter onto my mug to stop myself from shaking. "Grace."

"I don't care."

I resist the urge to punch the Punisher right in the jaw. Instead, I suck in a deep breath and lean back. The years spent working with Stark has taught me a lot about life, especially patience in this case. "I don't want anything." He seems utterly unconvinced, and I don't blame him. Sighing, I add, "I'm just trying to mind my own business and somehow, my rotten luck has ensured I move into a place right from across the Punisher." His face pales but his jaw is still set. I finish, "aka you, Frank."

I never knew a man could post so much threat simply by leaning towards me across the table, until the day. But that's probably because of the amount of articles that I have read upon the Punisher. I'm a curious one, you can say. His brows cease and his cold eyes fall on me. In this very moment, I know I would never want to cross this man. "How do you know so much about me? Have you been following me?" 

It doesn't escape me he has dropped a hand below the table to reach for his short gun behind his waist. "Have you been listening to me?" I roll my eyes in a mock attempt of bravery. Admittedly, I am close to pissing myself. I am not one for such dramatic and thrilling situation. I would honestly prefer sitting in a workshop and work my ass off. "I don't care what you do, Frank. I'm not here for you. I'm here because of...some other issues of mine." 

Arching an eyebrow, he watches me tentatively. The coffee mugs between us sit unattended. Finally, Frank leans back slightly and relaxes his hand on his short gun. I exhale quietly and wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. "What issues?" he quizzes lowly, his voice dark and hollow in the atmosphere. At the bar, Maria giggles with pleasure as another customer informs her of his great morning routine. "Should I be concern?" Frank's narrowed eyes skim past the neighbour outside of the diner before settling his attention back on me again. His dog hums lowly before resting by his feet again. 

"No," I settle neatly and finish my drink. I need to get out of here quick. He is stressing me considerably. I cannot avoid another panic attack right now. "It's not a big deal." 

Frank raises his eyebrows mockingly and gulps down his drink too. Nodding, he makes a face and gestures for Maria. The kind woman returns with a fresh pot of coffee and serves Frank another mug. "Not a big deal, huh?" Frank mutters and brings the mug to his lips. Once Maria is out of our hearing range, he places the cup back on the table and nods towards the street from across. "Now tell me, how did you wind up with three men following you, Grace?"

The blood in me freezes. The corner of Frank's lips lift knowingly and with a soft sigh, he shakes his head and rubs his chin. The dog by his feet growls. "Should I be concerned now?" He almost asks jokingly. Anger and fear boil within me like a sick disease. My heart kicks away in my chest as I try to figure a way out of this mess. Despite how annoying the Punisher turns out to be, he is innocent in this situation. I simply cannot drag him into this. Once Hydra sees him, they might decide he would be a good addition to their team. Then Barnes' tragedy would repeat. History would repeat itself...

"You need to go."

Frank seems physically startled by my response. Surprise fills his form before he is able to frown at me. "Are you kidding? How are you going to deal with these men? They've got weapons with them. Check out their waists, ma'am-"

"Grace," I hiss between gritted teeth. Frank puts up both of his hands in surrender. 

"With all deal respect, Grace, it doesn't feel right to leave you here alone." 

I peer out of the window and catch glimpse of the men that Frank mentioned earlier. They are definitely more well built than I am. Who am I kidding? They are built for this sort of task. Hit and go once they realise what plan I have in mind. "People who are after me," I attempt to explain, ignoring the short edge of a panic attack creeping in my stomach, "They are real bad. They can't see you. They cannot know who you are. If they do, they would be after you too."

Frank's frown deepens. The dog pushes itself onto its feet and sniffs at Frank's boots. "And why would they be after me?"

"Cause if they know who you are," I inhale shakily and feel for the revolver behind my waist, "they would want you too, Frank."


	3. THREE

*Chapter contains strong language

 

"I ain't scared of no scambags, lady."

"Stop following me, Frank! I can deal with this on my own."

The truth is, I can't. But I cannot pull my new neighbour into this, despite he is the very Punisher himself. Plus, he's got a dog with him. I can't let anything happen to that poor baby. Frank, annoyed but determined, catches up with ease and falls into steps next to me. I set my eyes on the street before me, not daring to slow or look behind us at all. "I'm not sure if you have noticed," Frank speaks with amusement between his words, "but you suck at this."

"You don't know me," I defend blindingly, my heart pounding away in my chest, threatening to burst in my throat. This is only the first day in my attempt of righting things. Barton would literally laugh his ass off if he knew I had had screwed up on Day One already. I swallow and almost trip over Frank's dog.

"True." Frank shrugs, and suddenly, his voice turns grave. "Get into the street behind that shop." Seeing no other option, I comply mutedly and stomp into the dark alley. 

"If you got killed because of this, I'm not apologizing."

"No chance, Grace." A hint of humour sparks in Frank's words. I let him off with that one, seeing that's the first time he acually addresses me with my first name. Silence passes over us when the sky decides to drizzle. I curse under my breath at my rotten luck while Frank carries on with little notice to the drips on his face and buzz cut. We take a left turn silently, with only Frank's dog panting with what seems to be endless energy. Then, to my horror, we arrive at a dead end. 

"What do we do now?" I ignore the obvious panic in my voice and spin around to face Frank. I'm actually going to get him killed, and my pathetic life is going to end in this grim alley lined with dumpsters. Oh my god. 

Frank turns on his heels and faces corner that we just came from solemnly. His eyes are almost cleared of any emotions except for the permenant coldness that seems to have implanted in the man. "Now we wait." Before I can cuss the Punisher out for being such a fucktard, three men take the corner and stop in their tracks when they catch sight of us. Ironically, they all dress exactly like those villians that you see in films. Leather jackets, overly-confident smug faces, a few scares here and there, combat boots. You get where I'm going with this. It doesn't help when I realise my new neighbour, who is scowling next to me, kind of fit into that catergory of dress code too. "Miss Skeet," the bald man in the middle starts, "we've been looking for you."

My throat has gone competely dry. I can't help but remember last time when I tried to learn some self-defense skills from Natasha. I ended up with a black eye and a nose bleed. It was pretty amazing how Steve had managed to keep a stright face. But long story short, I am not made for this. "Cut the bullshit. What do you want?" Frank glances at me briefly inspite of my choice of words before glaring at the intruders again. 

"You know what Hydra wants," the bald man unzips his jacket almost mindless. Next to me, Frank tenses. "The little toy that you have invented, kid."

I'm having a difficult time to keep my voice from trembling. "First of all, don't call me kid. Second of all, I don't have it."

"Now, now," the man takes an easy step towards us. Frank's hand flies to his belt instantly. "We know that isn't true. Hand it over and we will make it as painless as possible for you."

I stare at the three men. My head is racing with thoughts. I have installed the soft drive onto my laptop, the hard drive on the other hand is very vulnerable right now. Simply put it, I cannot let them find out where I'm staying at the moment. The bald man, who seems to be in charge of the gang, narrows his eyes at Frank and arches an eyebrow. "Who's he?" 

Frank doesn't utter a word. His face is tight murderously, and I can tell the men are weighing him carefully in their head. Truth to be told, if it weren't for Frank, I probably wouldn't have lasted for one minute in our conversation. 

We keep our silence. The dog by Frank's side barks only once before watching the new company of three with a low growl too. The man in charge eyes the dog and snickers. With a nod from the bald man, the two behind him lauch for Frank and I. Frank blocks off his first blow with ease, his whole composure taking that of a fighter at once. Me, on the other hand, dives for the side clumsily with a yelp. The man after me has the stupidest forehead tattoo I have ever set eyes on. It's almost distracting for me enough to allow him another blow on my temple. I duck again, this time throwing my whole body onto his middle, bringing the two of us onto the concrete ground. Water soaks through my hoodie as I kick and struggle. Before I can try out the headlock technique that Natasha has taught me before, a body lands onto my right with a dull thud. Then, the man on top of me is lifted off without any warning. I blink at the dripping sky, my sight blurring before refocusing under the rain. 

"You son of a bitch!" The bald man snaps behind me. With a sickening crack, the body in Frank's large arms stops all its movements. His neck is twisted in the most bizarre manner as the body falls against a dumspter. 

The sky is still crying, and I am a wordless bubble in this scene. 

Everything seems to have gone muted around me. I stare at the men on the ground. One with a bloody face, barely recognizable. The other with a broken neck and hollow eyes that watch my trembling frame. The rain continues to soak through my clothes, my bones. I am so cold. So cold. I don't know how long it has been until those large hands of his touch my shoulder tentatively, as if I was a trapped animal, ready to leap up and run in any time. "You okay there, Grace? Can you hear me?"

Frank's voice is slowly pulling me back from my trance. His large being bends down slightly as he tries to look me in the eyes. Glancing over his arms, I catch sight of the bald man's body. A ruby red hole is imprinted in his forehead. Gushes of blood spill the bullet wound and join the bits of flesh on the concrete ground. For the first time, I know how death looks and smells like. 

"Hey, Grace, look at me." Frank's large hand touches my cheek lightly. His finger tips are wet from both the rain and blood. "We need to go now, do you understand me?" His voice echoes in my head along with my own pants. One, two, three, breathe in. One, two, three, breathe out. Bruce's calming techniques, remember? Grace, remember?

"Grace, can you hear me?"

I stare up at him, meeting his hazel glints for the first time since what feels like dedcades. Nodding, I close my hand on his wrist as if I'm holding on for dear life and croaks, "let's go."


	4. FOUR

With Last Christmas playing softly in the background, Frank taps his finger on the table mindlessly as he watches the street from inside of this Chinese restaurant. Another shiver crawls down my spine as I hunch in my chair. Thankfully, the owner of this place doesn't seem to care that we are drenched in rain, and I am more than happy to have a shelter and some Chinese food right now. "What, it's like September now," Frank grumbles and picks at an old scar by his eyebrow. "They have to change the song." Shakily, I peer at the man before me. Sure, I have read tons about him. But never have I ever imagined his work in action, and I don't think I would ever want to see it again. Frank's thoughtful eyes fall on me momentarily. "You okay there?" he quizzes softly. 

 

Nodding, I take another sip of my water. I don't trust my voice right now, and frankly, I don't think my head is capable of coming up with an appropriate response in this very instance. Frank glances away once more, allowing me the privacy to collect myself. I guess it's fair for me to say that watching the death of three men is pretty trumatising. I wonder how Frank deals with this on such frequent basis. With a heave, I lean back and grimace when my soaked hoodie sticks to my back. After the incident in the alley, Frank has led me through the area, turning corners and crossing streets in an attempt to confuse whoever was trying to follow me. We ended up opposite to where we live from across town. By the time we realised we had missed lunch, it was already seven in the evening. The shock of the men's death has slightly worn off of me, and of course, I insist we have one of my best comfort food of all time-Chinese dishes. 

 

"Thank you," I finally manage to speak up. Frank gazes at me and I continue, "if it weren't for you, they could have killed me already." 

 

"Don't worry about it," the man mumbles but I carry on anyway.

 

"I just couldn't risk putting you in danger too, Frank." My kncukles are white around the glass of water. I stare hard at it, wishing I could be anyone but Grace Skeet. "I have made too many mistakes-"

 

A waitor arrives with our food emotionlessly. He places the plates on the table, refills our glasses, and leaves without another word. I stare hard at our food, my stomach rumbles in protest but I can't bring myself to eat yet. Not when I haven't explained myself better in front of someone who as just put themselves at risk for me. But before I can utter another word, Frank beats me to it. 

 

"Look, I probably don't know you enough to say this, but you seem like a nice enough person." Frank picks up his glass and meets gaze with me. I gulp. "I have no clue as to how you ended up in this position, but until you're ready to tell me, you can keep it to yourself." 

 

I stare back blankly. "Really? Just like that?" 

 

He hesitates, but the reluctance disappears in his glints when he leans his glass of water towards me. I pick up mine wanly and clicks it with his. "I trust you, Grace. Don't disappoint me." I watch with my mouth agap as Frank finishes his drink in one go. Maybe Frank Castle isn't as crazy as people have suspected him to be. If he could trust me, why couldn't I return the favour and trust the man too?

 

With a weak smile, I raise the glass to my lips. "Now, I would never want to upset the Punisher. I'm not that dumb."

 

The ghost of a smirk tugs at Frank's lips. Shaking my head with a sigh, I ignore him and dig in. 

 

I haven't slept so well in almost a month. Ever since I have left Stark Industries, I'm on the run. There's not a day when I am not worried about being discovered and taken to Hydra's. Or worst, my own very creation being taken away from me. But last night, lying in my new mattress, I felt oddly calm. It could have been the amount of Chinese food that I have consumed, or the idea that Frank Castle might be on my side. It's almost assuring to know that if anything happens, I can always go straight to Frank for help.

 

Blinking, I push myself up from my new bed and stare at the floor tiles groggily. Daylight spills from the window from across me and pools on the floor. It's a bright day, and I should really purchase some curtains. All the way from where I am sitting, I can already hear Frank's dog, Max. 

Frank Castle. I'll need time to figure him out. I can't afford to repeat my mistakes once more. There is no way in hell I would trust him blindingly. At least not right now. Exhaling heavily, I pull myself up and stumble towards the kitchen in my underwear. My clothes from last night are still dripping on the hangers that I hung in front of the window. They made a good make-shift curtain. 

 

After a glass of cloudy water, I decide Max is not a quiet one. I let the tap run for a bit, hoping that the tinted water would turn clear soon. Frustration growls within me when it didn't. With a strangled grunt, I smack a fist on top of the tap. Pain surges through my forearm and I screw my face up in regret. "Fuck," I cry breathlessly just as a splash of water shoots at my face. Shrieking, I jerk away from the broken tap while water spills from where the tap was like a fountain. "What is this stupid place?" I gasp in rage and helplessness. Glancing around in vain, I rush to the window and grab my hoodie that is still soaking wet. "What is wrong with me?" I mutter under my breath gloomily and hurry back into the kitchen. I stuff my hoodie into the gapping hole. Water still sneaks away from it, but honestly? I cannot care less right now.

 

Moving to the window, I peer down onto the street to look out for anything suspicious. The neighborhood is deserted. Only a hooded man is smoking on the pavement from across me. A woman in leather jacket storms past with purpose, while a man with red tinted glasses walks in the opposite direction on the other side with a crane. I linger by the window only to confirm the hooded man isn't harmless. As expected, the man puts out his cigarette in a few minutes and stumbles on with his life with a scowl. 

I return to my new mattress gloomily. I need to find a job, since I practically have no income at the moment. Thankfully, I have planned it all out before I left Stark’s. Fifteen minutes later, I am already dressed in the only pair of clean jeans that I own at the moment, and a jacket in army green that I adore. Shutting the door behind me, I head down the stairs that will eventually lead me to the main street. Frank’s door has been shut all morning, so I didn’t really get the chance to greet him or anything. On the other hand, his dog has been barking nonstop, which is kind of annoying. 

I pull out my phone and double tap on a map of the neighbourhood that I have previously looked up. I know there is a car workshop further down the road. It’s a small, running business, but it’s the best shot that I have right now. I just can’t sit still for long enough to work in a café or shop. I need to move my limps and think. This is just how I work. 

I put on my poker face when I spot the workshop by the side. It’s dodgy looking for sure, with a man in his work clothes hanging just outside of the shop, a cigarette at his lips while his eyes catching glimpse of me. At once, curiosity glints in his gleams. As I’m crossing the road to head to the workshop, however, my phone buzzes in my front pocket, startling me just as a car is steering in my direction. Loud honks echo the street while I dodge out of the way embarrassedly. The man in front of the workshop is joined by another man. Their smirks delightfully annoying me. Once I’m in the safety of being on the pavement, I huff and fish my phone out of my front pocket. To my surprise, Frank’s full name blinks at me on the screen. 

Frowning, I click open his text: Can I use your shower? Mine’s broken. –Castle

What? We literally just met yesterday! Also, how did you get my number? –I’m not amused

You were asleep by the time I carried you back to your place. Thought I’d just get your number and save mine on your phone in case of emergency. By the way, I can’t believe you’ve set your passcode to 123456 on your phone. –Castle

Shut up. I locked my door though. How are you going to get in? –Grace

I linger on the pavement with flushing hot cheeks. The two men are both awaiting for my approach now. This is such an embarrassing start to a job interview. 

I have my ways, Skeet. I really need a shower to wash all the blood. –Castle

Did you kill anyone??!! –Grace is fine! 

Do you even know who you’re talking to? –Castle

I rub my face in exhaustion and punch in my last message to Frank before finally entering the workshop, blanking both snickering men by the side. 

Don’t break my door, Castle, or I’ll mess you up. –Grace


End file.
